


Two Blokes in a Bar

by orphan_account



Series: 200 Park Avenue meets 221B Baker Street [2]
Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: AvengeLock, Avengerlock, Gen, Mycroft and Phil are up next, Pre-Slash, i think this is going to be a regular thing, implied (future) Sherlock/John, it happened again, just people from these two 'verses chatting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-09
Updated: 2012-07-09
Packaged: 2017-11-09 12:12:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/455319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>They’re just two blokes in a bar.<br/>Both of them are a bit shorter than average and attractive, if unassuming.  The pair are sandy-haired and deceptively fit beneath t-shirts and jeans.  The shorter of the two wears a loose-fitting cardigan over his black tee.  The taller is camouflaging heavily muscled arms and shoulders in a weather-beaten leather jacket.<br/>They’re just a couple of middle-aged men watching footie and downing a few pints.  Right.</i>
</p><p>In which Clint Barton and John Watson walk into a bar.  It's not the start of a joke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Blokes in a Bar

They’re just two blokes in a bar. 

Both of them are a bit shorter than average and attractive, if unassuming.  The pair are sandy-haired and deceptively fit beneath t-shirts and jeans.  The shorter of the two wears a loose-fitting cardigan over his black tee.  The taller is camouflaging heavily muscled arms and shoulders in a weather-beaten leather jacket. 

They’re just a couple of middle-aged men watching footie and downing a few pints.  Right.

“Intel puts him in Kabul last week.”  Leather jacket’s accent is RP with hints at a childhood in the Midlands, maybe Coventry. 

The accent is a lie.

Cardigan doesn’t bother disguising his voice or Estuary accent.  The pub’s his local.  He’s just the quiet doctor who lives alone in a two bedroom flat on Baker Street.  “Any indication of what exactly he was doing there?”

“Uncovering a smuggling ring.”

“Drugs?”

“Antiquities.  Small arms.  A couple of holdovers from before Stark shut down the Weapons Division.”

“Christ.”

Their expressions are a study in polite interest, two pairs of light eyes never leaving the small television behind the bar.

“If you know he’s alive…”

“Don’t.”

“I’m just saying—”

“If he wanted me to come, he would’ve taken me.”

“You know it’s not that simple.  You weren’t supposed to know.  I don’t exactly have a great track record when it comes to liking your friends—”

“Bill, Hannah, Cory, Jeff, Anna—”

“Yes, them, right, I’m flawed and think you should only be friends with awesome people.  Sue me.  But this guy—I mean, really.  You were…you were not doing so hot the last time I saw you, and then he sweeps in and just.  And the way you write about him.  Jesus, he came as close to dying for you as he could without actually…you know, _dying_.”

“Clint.”  He looks down into his beer, brow furrowed.

“John, I know I can’t talk you into anything.  I have a talented tongue, but even I know better than to persuade you when you’ve made your mind up.  But I know how much he means to you.  And I talked to Bruce after that scary bloke with the umbrella practically kidnapped him last month.  You’ve been looking out for this idiot and he’s never going to know.”

“He’ll come back when he’s done with Moriarty’s network.”

“You hope.”

“That’s all we get, Clint.  We hope they come back to us.  Sometimes they come back from the dead, even.”

“Don’t make this about Phil.”

“I don’t begrudge you anything.  I’m…I’m happy for you, really.  Coulson’s one of the good ones.”

“From what I hear, Sherlock’s been pretty good for you, too.  Were you…”

“No.  I don’t know.  Everyone thought so, but…It was complicated.”

“Jesus, Three Continents Watson in love?  I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Sometimes, Barton, you do this thing where you open your mouth and sounds come out.”

“I’m told it’s one of my finest qualities.”

“It’s really not.”

“You love me for my wit and sparkling personality and you know it, you limey bastard.”

“Obviously.  Just don’t act like it’s always simple.”

“I know it’s not.  It’s an all-around shit situation.  I…I really am sorry, John.”

“Don’t be.  I owe you enough without you acting all grown up on me.”

Clint snorted.  “We both know _that_ isn’t likely to happen.”

John cracked a small smile.  “So, how’s the family?”

“Steve and Tony make cow eyes at each other.  Bruce meditates.  Thor tries to get his brother to stop pulling tricks and trying to take over the world.  Phil sighs a lot and acts like we all irritate him, which is completely unconvincing because clearly we are made of awesome and he’s lucky to supervise our team.  Natasha says ‘Privyet.  Tsenga yee?’  Oh, and the next time she’s in London she says she’ll break into your flat and surprise you.”

“I look forward to it,” John laughed.  “So you aren’t missing the quiet life in Afghanistan?”

“Not as such, no.”

“You could use the sun.”

“I’m a city boy, now; we have to take a vacation to see that shit.”

“New York suits you, then?”

The other soldier pulled a face like he'd eaten something off the shelf where Sherlock stores human remains.  "You know I don't like to complain."  John made a strangled noise, halfway between a laugh and a snort of disbelief.  "It's just that S.H.I.E.L.D. has us living in Stark Tower.  The team is great, really.  But it’s a bit like living in a frat house.   Except whoever was in charge was high enough to give the frat boys superpowers and access to labs full of AI and radioactive materials.”




“Thanks to Jarvis, I'd wager there's a distinct lack of heads in the fridge.”

“We do have that going for us.”

**Author's Note:**

> “Privyet” is an informal greeting. It’s, to my understanding, the Russian equivalent of “hi” or “hey.” “Tsenga yee” is a Pashto phrase that asks “how are you?” It is often used as a casual greeting similar to the American use of “what’s up?”
> 
> I have a few more of these in the pipeline, because they're easier to work on while I'm working on my other 'verse Big Bangs than my other series. Also, they're a lot of fun to write. Up next is Mycroft Holmes and Phil Coulson. You've been warned.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Chance Encounters](https://archiveofourown.org/works/458010) by [Tora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tora/pseuds/Tora)




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